


mac moves out

by golden_geese



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, MacDennis - Freeform, dennis pines after mac, i would classify this as non-con romance, the north dakota situation is explained, this takes place after season 13, tw: disordered eating is mentioned, tw: internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_geese/pseuds/golden_geese
Summary: mac decides to move out. dennis doesn't take it well.





	mac moves out

The day Mac comes out of the closet, Dennis gets blackout drunk. Downs gulps of tequila straight from the bottle. Chases them with gulps of beer. Blearily watches pirated action movies on the computer in the office at Paddy’s until five in the morning. Doesn’t wake up until maybe noon, when Charlie comes in squawking about rats or cats or cheese or whatever.

Yeah. That’s about how his life is going.

Because it was a massive shock. Of course he knew Mac is gay-- he’s known forever. But the fact that Mac would _admit it_ \-- the fact that Mac would stop playing straight and accept the truth-- that is fucking crazy. That’s the part that throws Dennis miles and miles into a loop. 

And then, just when he’s managing to perch his heterosexuality carefully back onto the top shelf, just when things are starting to feel normal-- 

Mac shoves his way back in. Squeezes an emotion out of Dennis in the form of a rocket-less rocket launcher.

(god fucking dammit. fuck mac.)

He doesn’t even want to know what his stupid face must have looked like when he took that thing out of its crate. At least if it had the damn rocket, he could just pretend he was excited about that. 

The Brian Jr. thing had happens just in time, really. An excuse to get the fuck out of Philly and away from the gang once and for all. An excuse to move to the-middle-of-fucking-nowhere, North Dakota. 

But of course that blows up in Dennis’ face. Of course it ends with him having what many people would call A Whole-Ass Mental Breakdown and Mandy gently telling him the Wednesdays and every other weekend custody plan isn’t going to work anymore and he needs to go back home. Of fucking course it ends this way. He never should have expected anything different.

So he collects what’s left of his dignity. He buys a one-way ticket to Philadelphia. He waltzes into the bar like nothing’s happened. He moves all his stuff back into his and Mac’s old apartment. Replaces his Range Rover with an identical copy, inserts himself back into the gang’s dumb drama, plants himself firmly behind his bar.

And now, in the shadow of the whole gay pride parade fiasco and the dance thing and whatever the fuck else has ruptured out of everyone’s apparent new need to Fucking Change Everything, Mac has _something I need to tell you, Dennis_. 

Great.

So Dennis stalls going home. Takes extra time closing up the bar. Extra time driving to their building. He even stops at the Wawa for a six-pack of beer they definitely do not need. 

He adds a pack of cigarettes at the last minute. Because, goddammit, he’s a little jittery.

But eventually he gets home. Parks across the street. Adjusts his watch before getting out of the car. Jaywalks to the building.

(‘something i need to tell you dennis’ whatever the fuck that means.)

He lets himself into their apartment. Takes his time untying his shoes, instead of just kicking them off like he normally would.

“Yo, Den, is that you?”

His face contorts into thirty percent of a scowl. “Yeah, it’s me, asshole, who else would it be?”

“Ha.”

(wasn’t a fucking joke, ronald.)

“Can I tell you my thing, dude?” Mac asks after a moment of silence.

Shoes untied and off, Dennis straightens up. “Yeah.”

Mac’s chest inflates. His chin tips upwards. “So… I’m gonna move out. I found a place. I’ll be out of here in a few days.”

Dennis pales. Something in his chest freezes over. His jaw tightens.

“Really,” he says after staring at Mac for an uncomfortable amount of time, his head tilting the slightest bit downward.

Mac’s feet shuffle. He breaks eye contact. Rubs at his neck. “Yeah, dude, I mean-- it’s kind of time, don’t you think? I mean, you made it pretty clear that you want space from me. And you could use the empty bedroom, I’m sure your son is going to come visit sometimes, and”

Mac keeps talking. Dennis stopped listening the second he said ‘your son’. 

(it’s time? what the fuck why do you think it’s time i just fucking came back you fucking piece of shit)

(fuck you mac)

“Dennis?”

“What,” he says calmly.

“Are you going to… say anything?” Mac asks, all big brown eyes and bulging arm muscles and Dennis’ old tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

“It’s fine.”

“...What’s fine?”

Dennis inhales. Straightens his shoulders. Starts walking toward his room. “That you’re moving out. Fine. Do whatever you want, Mac.”

He can feel Mac’s eyes on him. He shuts his door.

Beer has too many carbs in it. Good thing he has a bottle of creme de menthe in his sock drawer.

+

He shouldn’t be surprised when he wanders into the living room after two days of silent treatment and it’s full of fucking moving boxes.

Frowning, he opens one. Old VHS tapes. Most of the labels have been crossed out and re-written a few times. “Project Badass”, “Project Badass”, “Project Badass”… “Honey & Vinegar”.

(honey and vinegar. the real estate thing? but we didn’t)

The thought cuts off. Replaces itself with a third of a realization. It goes down like a spoonful of sand.

(the commercial. partners in real estate partners in life)

He turns the tape around in his hands. They don’t have a VHS player anymore. Their old one burned in that stupid fucking fire and they never replaced it. Because why would you. Right?

He sets his jaw. 

(why can’t i remember what we fucking filmed)

(fuck mac. fuck mac for keeping this and packing it and)

He shoves it back into the box. Closes the lid. Opens another. Jesuses on crosses, a couple bibles, a rosary, a half-burnt Jesus candle, some sloppily-folded sheets and towels.

(you have no reason to feel nauseous you haven’t even eaten anything today other than coffee)

He exhales slowly. Closes the second box. What the fuck. Whatever.

“Oh, hey Den. Didn’t hear you come in,” Mac says easily from his bedroom doorway. He’s carrying a pile of folded tee shirts. He wanders over. Plops the stack down into an open box.

“You don’t have any furniture,” Dennis hears himself say, voice low, small, half a growl. “How are you going to live in a new apartment without furniture?”

“Oh, it’s pre-furnished,” he answers brightly. “Everything’s already there.”

“Right.”

“You okay, man? You don’t look so good. Hey, have you eaten today?”

“What do you care?”

“Fuck you too, then, asshole,” Mac says, heading back to his room. “Hey, since my new place has furniture already in it, I can leave my old bed and you can use it for when your son comes to visit.”

There are those words again. 

“He’s not coming to visit, you idiot,” Dennis snaps.

“What was that?” Mac asks from his doorway, another stack of folded clothes in his arms. Dennis watches him wander back over to the mess of open boxes and deposit them into one seemingly at random. “Dennis?”

“What.”

“You said something, and I didn’t hear, and I said what was that,” Mac says, impatience edging his tone.

Dennis huffs a little. “I said the kid isn’t coming to visit so you don’t have to fucking worry about that, okay?”

Mac blinks. In one weird, animatronic motion, he leans forward a little. His eyes narrow into his Trying to Do Science face. 

“He’s not?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He scoffs. “If you were his mom, and I was his dad, would you fucking let him come visit me?”

Mac blinks; puts the words together into a notion that makes sense. “Uh, yeah, sure, what are you talking about, dude? Is that why you came back to Philly? Did she kick you out?”

Dennis rolls his eyes hard. “Move past it, okay? Doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Why are you packing so many goddamn VHS tapes? Do you even have a VHS player?”

“No, dude, but like, those are classics,” Mac says, taking a tape out of the box. “Project Badass twenty-four. That was the time I had Charlie break ten beer bottles on my head in a row. Totally badass, dude.”

Without really thinking about it, Dennis rips the plasticky tape out of Mac’s hand and chucks it across the room. It lands underwhelmingly with the dull thunk of plastic against plastic. He cringes a little.

“What the fuck, dude?”

“I’m sure you have some of my clothes mixed in with yours,” Dennis says, going for the box of shirts. “You’re always stealing my damn shirts.” He pulls one out; grey, worn, with the word RIOT stamped onto it in black. Another one; ‘Denny’s Muffler Center’. He almost wants to rip it in half. Instead he throws it too.

“I don’t have any of your shirts, Dennis,” Mac says, face tangled up in confusion.

Dennis can feel his pulse in his forehead. Can feel Mac’s eyes on him.

He takes more shirts out. Mac’s Paddy’s tee shirt. Mac’s other Paddy’s tee shirt, because of course he has to have one with the sleeves ripped off. A green Tommy Bahama shirt with olives and martini glasses on it.

He pauses, looking down at the crumpled fabric in his hands. 

“This one’s mine,” he finally says. 

“You gave it to me ‘cause you said it’s ugly,” Mac responds, voice quiet and careful. “You… only bought it because I wanted you to, remember? And then you didn’t like it. You said the fabric was too scratchy and it’s ugly.”

“The fabric is scratchy,” Dennis insists, hands fisting around the tacky shirt. “It looks better on you anyway. Green isn’t my color. It washes me out. It doesn’t make my eyes pop.”

“Yeah, man. Blue is your color. I know.”

Slowly, he turns his eyes from the shirt to Mac. Only for a second though; then he looks back down at the shirt. Tosses it aside. Pulls out another one. ‘San Juan Islands.’

“You’ve never been to Washington,” Dennis remarks.

“Yeah. I know. I think that shirt’s Charlie’s, actually.”

Dennis reaches into the box again. Takes out the rest of the clothes. Throws them emptily toward the couch. 

“You’re just going to leave, are you?” Dennis says, eyebrows shoving upward. He goes for the Jesus and towels box. “You’re just gonna, what, fucking-- pack up all your tacky shirts and Jesuses and leave? Go live alone? You think you could last a fucking day alone?”

“I lived alone for all of last year while you were in North Dakota, dude,” Mac points out, but the fight in his voice is gone.

“I’m sure you filled this place up with dicks, you dumb twink.”

“I’m a bear,” Mac insists.

“You stupid fucking twink. You’re seriously just going to leave? You big dumb idiot,” Dennis says, punctuating his words by throwing more of Mac’s belongings around the living room. “You’re my best friend and you’re just going to go live someplace else? You fucking idiot?”

“Dennis, I don’t know what the big deal is, we’re both still going to be at the bar every day, we’ll see each other all the time,” Mac says, watching Dennis unpack his boxes without bothering to intervene at all.

“Then what’s the point of moving out at all?” Dennis demands, turning a box upside down and dumping out Mac’s shoes and books onto the floor. 

“Dude, calm down, it’s not a bit deal! Stop it,” Mac says, taking the empty box from Dennis’ hands. “Why the fuck do you care so much? Why?”

“Because we’ve been living together for half our lives and there’s no reason for you to move out and I love you and you’re a big fucking idiot, you stupid twink,” Dennis rambles, emptying the last box, sending belts and winter clothes and a desk lamp onto the floor. 

“Wait, Den, what did you just say?”

“You’re a stupid fucking twink,” Dennis repeats, a little out of breath for some reason.

“No, before that-- did you say you love me?”

(fuck.)

(fuck mac)

“Dennis,” Mac says, his voice absolutely dripping with honey-- “you love me?”

He huffs, dropping the Phillies sweatshirt that had been balled up in his hands. “Yes, idiot. Duh. We’ve been roommates for how long? Don’t get hung up on that. Move past it.”

“No, dude, come on,” Mac pleads. “You mean it?”

Dennis gestures vaguely. “Yes? I mean, fuck, did I really have to spell it out for you? I haven’t banged anyone as many times as I’ve banged you, that has to mean something, right? But can we not talk about this?”

“That was, like, years ago, though,” Mac says dumbly. “That was like 2009. That was a decade ago, bro.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. Nudges an offending cardboard box away with his foot. “So what?”

(you’re the one who wanted to stop, he doesn’t say. you’re the one, mac, who wanted to stop-- you’re the one who said it was getting too gay after dee caught us, you’re the one you’re the one you’re the one)

“I dunno,” Mac says after a heavy pause. “I mean… I love you too, Dennis.”

He pulls a face. “Ew. Do you hear yourself right now? Eugh. Let’s just have some drinks and put a movie on and not talk about this. Can we just not talk about this? Can you put this shit back in your room already?”

“Yeah,” Mac says quickly. “Yeah, I’m on it. I’ll put it away. Let me just, like, take the moving truck back really quick-- can you follow me in the Range Rover and give me a ride home?”

Dennis blinks. Kicks at Mac’s Jesus pile. “Alright, buddy.”

“Thanks, dude.”

**Author's Note:**

> from the anon request "mac abandons dennis and dennis pines for mac"! follow me at golden-geese.tumblr.com for more! and please leave a comment, i rlly appreciate them!!!!!!!!!  
> HUGE thanks to annie (sapphic-dee.tumblr.com) for helping me come up with the premise and some of the dialogue!!!!!!!!!!


End file.
